Blackbird (13 page)

Someone was tapping her face.  She winced, her sunburned skin stinging her to consciousness.  She tried to speak, but her mouth was too dry.

An Indian resembling Adahya held a bowl of water to her lips.  She gulped all of it.

“M-more.”

The Indian brought her more, and she drank that too.

Adahya knelt in front of her.  He was there in the flesh.  He was not dead.

She threw her arms around his neck, and he yelled out in pain.

“I’m sorry.”  She drew back, suddenly noticing how pale he looked.  “Are you all right?”

“I have been better.  Katherine, can you walk?  I cannot carry you.”

Katherine nodded, and he helped her up.  Her legs buckled as soon as she put weight on them.  Adahya caught her, and cursed in pain. 

Zachariah helped shepherd both of them Adahya’s lodge.   As he held the door of the lodge open for both to enter, he spoke briefly and then left. 

When Katherine helped Adahya down upon his pallet of hides and placed a bedroll behind his neck for support.  The bandage at his shoulder was wet with fresh blood and that his skin had grown very pale.  His eyes were wide as they stared up at her.  She wondered if he had been scared, and something sad sank in her.  She should have been there if he had been frightened.  For some unknown reason, she needed to have been there.

“Are you in much pain?” she asked.

He said something in Mohawk and lightly touched her face.  “What?”

“There is ointment for your burn.”  He pointed toward a bag hanging from one of the lodge poles.

“We need new bandages.”

“Over there.”

She found some strips of cloth and soft leather where he had pointed.  Leaning over him, she reached behind his neck to untie his wrappings. 

He touched her face again. “You did not get the ointment.”

“I’ll get it later.”  She took the wrapping off his wound.  The flesh was blackened from cauterization.  “Did your mother do this?”

Adahya nodded, wincing when she covered the wound with fresh cloth.  He ran a hand lightly over her cut wrists.  “You need to bandage these.”

“I will after you’re taken care of.”

“You saved my life.”

It was a simple statement.  But one in which she doubted his arrogance and pride would allow if he was not in such pain.  She looked down into his black eyes.  Once they had seemed to cold and demonic.  Now she saw them as something very familiar.

She broke his gaze, unnerved by the intensity.  “And I guess you saved mine as well.”

“So we are even then.”

“Yes, I guess we are.”

He cupped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him.  “You are a strong woman, Chogan.”

She pretended not to hear him and finished replacing his bandage, careful not to cause him more pain.  She felt his breath on her cheek as she secured the leather strips around his neck.  His coarse hair brushed against her hands, and she unconsciously inhaled his familiar scent.  She did not feel strong.  Not in the slightest.

Suddenly, she wanted to hold him, to reassure him for some unknown reason.  Her arms still around his neck, she pressed her lips to his mouth. 

As she pulled away, his expression showed confusion.  “What was that for?”

“To thank you for not dying.”

He smiled softly and closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in pain.  He was snoring as she covered him with a trade blanket.

She found the ointment and gently applied the cooling, foul smelling grease over her sunburn.  She found a large clay pot of water, washed and wrapped her wrists, and drank three mugs of water.  She spread a blanket on the opposite side of the lodge and immediately fell asleep.

She did not know how long she had slept when she heard her name being called.

“Katherine!”  Adahya’s voice was sharp with urgency.

With only a few coals glowing in the base of the fire pit, the lodge was very dark.  She stumbled to find a candle.  Then lit the wick using the coals.

“Katherine!”

“I’m here.”  She stabbed the base of the candle into a hook on the wall and knelt beside him.  “What’s wrong?”

“Katherine?”

“Yes?”

“Katherine!”

She felt his head.  He was hot, and his hair was soaked with fever.  “You’re burning up.”

He sunk a death grip on her arm.  “Do not leave.  Please.”

Pushing his hair out of his eyes, she held his outstretched hand.  Anxiety flickered like the candle on the wall and quickly grew to panic.  She had never been a nursemaid.  When Mama lay in her bed bleeding and helpless, Katherine had not done anything right to make her live.

She needed help.

She-who-commands would know what to do.

Fearful images filled her mind, and her breath quickened.  The old woman might actually kill her this time.  But if Adahya died, they would kill her anyway.  She started to rise, but Adahya increased his grip on her hands.  “Do not leave!”

“I’m going to get help.”

“No.  Stay with me.”

She realized her hands were shaking just as badly as his, and her panic turned to annoyance.  “I’ll be right back.  I promise.”

“Promises are empty.”  His eyes were wide and desperate.  “Please, Katherine.  I need you.”

A strange surge of affection washed over her.  No one had ever said they needed her.  Not since Mama died.  Maybe she could help him.

She pulled her hand from his grip.  “I’m going to get some water over there.  I’ll be right back.”

She poured water onto a cloth and started sponging him down.  Every hour she repeated the process, and all the while Adahya would not let her get two feet away without calling for her.  Finally, with his head resting in her lap, both gave way to exhaustion.

It was mid-morning when she woke.  Adahya still slept in her lap.  She felt his forehead.  He was warm, but the worst of the fever seemed to have broken.

She stroked his drenched hair as he slept.  Confusion and frustration played games within her.  He had said he needed her.  Aside from kidnapping her, Adahya was every bit the knight in shining armor of which she had dreamed.  It was not fair he lived in this world.  As a white man, she had no doubt that he would one day marry her.  He would never shun her love the way Joshua had.

Adahya mumbled something in his sleep.  A sudden blackness filled her.  She could never stay here.  She did not belong. To consider staying was completely ridiculous.  Now that Adahya would live she would tell him goodbye and go back to the mission.  Adahya would allow her to leave.  He had said she could right after the trapper shot him.

She was lost in her thoughts when the lodge door opened and an old man entered.  Tall and spindly, Adahya’s grandfather wore the same kind smile he had the day Adahya first brought her to the village.

Nodding to her, the old man placed a pouch of tobacco at the foot of Adahya’s blanket.  He touched his grandson’s forehead and said something she did not understand.

“His fever’s broken, I think.”  She knew the old man did not understand her, but he smiled warmly, and she was not afraid.  He was the sort of person whose entire face lit up when he smiled.  Like Mama’s.

The old man said something else she could not understand.  Then he turned to leave.

“Thank you,” she called after him, and he nodded.

Katherine smiled, her mood somewhat brighter.  At least one member of Adahya’s family did not hate her.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

KATHERINE moved about the lodge as Adahya slept.

She found a large kettle to hang over the fire and some potatoes and carrots to boil.  The water supply was low, which meant she would have to go to the river.  Would these people allow her to pass without trying to kill her again?  Pondering this, she busied herself by cleaning Adahya’s cluttered home.  She gathered his weapons first:  six trade axes, two war clubs, one with a wicked looking steel point on the end, various bows and arrows, and she put them in a pack basket.  Various beads and gewgaws were collected and then placed in a small wooden box with a cracked mirror on the inside of the lid.  A bark shelf lay under a pile of clothing, and she fastened it back to the wall where it had once hung.  On that she stacked his cooking bowls and copper kettles.  After folding a pile of hides, she placed his clothes and British jacket neatly on top.  Then hung a pewter punched lamp from a top beam. Once lit, it cast tiny shadows in the room.

Starving now, Katherine had no choice but to risk being at the mercy of the villagers again.  Mustering all her courage, she took the kettle and headed toward the river.  She was only hit by one rock going through the stockade gate.  As she passed through, an Indian sat atop the high wall on guard.  He stared at her with the same familiar glare, and she recognized him as Adahya’s brother, Zachariah.

A woman was already at the river when Katherine arrived. She was short and petite, and she looked the around to be same age as Katherine.  Her skin was dark, and her eyes were black as night.  Katherine thought she was very pretty, and she wondered if Adahya’s deceased wife had been as attractive as this woman.

A wooden cradleboard containing a newborn was strapped to her back.  The infant was wrapped so tightly all that could be seen was its tiny dark face.

Realizing she was staring, and afraid she had made the woman angry, Katherine quickly scooped up a kettle of water and hurried up the riverbank, eager to get away before being hit or cursed.

“Chogan,” the woman called.

Katherine knew she was calling her, but she hurried faster, sloshing water on herself.

“Chogan, wait.”

Katherine suddenly stopped.  She whirled around to face the woman.  “You speak English?”

The woman smiled at her.  She motioned to her breast.  “I am called Star.”

Katherine did not know whether to laugh or cry.  Finally, another woman to talk to! And this one did not hate her.  “I’m Katherine,” she eagerly told her.

“I know.  Everyone talks about Adahya’s blackbird.”

Katherine scowled.  She wondered why she called her that, and she made a mental note to ask Adahya when he was well.

The woman called Star took hold of Katherine’s kettle and helped her carry it toward the village.  “My husband, Zachariah, is Adahya’s brother.  We are sisters now, Chogan.”

Katherine stopped walking.  She stared at Star’s warm face. Two people had been nice to her today:  the old man and now this woman.  Katherine could do little to stop her tears.  She had been so lonely, so scared that Adahya would die.  Now it all came pouring out of her in unstoppable sobs.

Star held her and softly stroked her hair.  “Do not cry, Blackbird.  Everyone misunderstands you now, but they will not forever.”

“But I don’t belong here.”  She hiccupped against Star’s shoulder.  The infant on her back was beginning to fuss.  Star held her back at arm’s length.  “I will speak to my family and make things right for you.”

“They tried to kill me!”  She recalled the burning poles and the hell she had faced knowing she would burn on them.  Her sobs broke her again.  “S-she-”

“Adahya’s mother is a hard, difficult woman.” Star spoke slowly, her voice as soft and soothing as the river beside them. “When I first came to be Zachariah’s wife, she told me that she did not approve of me.  She said I was not worthy of her son.”

“But did she try to kill you?”

Star was silent, as if thinking.  “No, but I am not white.”

“Oh.”

“But do not worry.  I will speak with her.  She will understand.  They will all understand.”  She lifted Katherine’s kettle, and Katherine helped her.  “Come, Chogan.  You must go back to Adahya.  You will make him well.”

Star left her at Adahya’s door.  Katherine went inside.

Adahya was sleeping soundly, so she busied herself with making soup with what stores she found.  Her spirits soared from talking with Star, and she wondered how the woman had learned English. If she ever talked with her again, she must remember to ask her.

Her concoction had just begun to boil when she heard movement outside her door.  She hesitantly slid the bark door aside to find Adahya’s brother, Zachariah, scowling at her.  He said something she did not understand, dropped a slain pheasant at her feet, and strode away.

* * *

ADAHYA’S stomach growled.  Something smelled wonderful.  He inhaled deeply, struggling to detect what his mother was cooking.  He opened his eyes.  He was in his own lodge.  Suddenly everything came back to him.  Katherine was here with him.  She had not left him.

He gingerly rolled onto his good shoulder and watched her.  Her back was to him.  She was bent over the fire stirring something.  Her doe skin dress had slid up, exposing a slim thigh.  His loins tightened, and he involuntarily groaned.

Katherine whirled around.  “You’re awake.”  She smiled at him.

A good sign.

“What are you making?”

“Stew.”  She went back to stirring.  “Your brother gave me a pheasant.”

“Which one?”

“Star’s husband.”

Adahya scowled.  He tried to sit up, but pain seared through him.  Katherine came to his assistance and propped him up to a sitting position.  “You met Star?”

“Yes, and she was nice to me,” she answered quickly.

He had never heard such excitement in her voice.

She went back to the fire and dished up two bowls of stew.  She handled him a wooden spoon.  Ravenous, he dove into the thick stew.  It was better than anything he had ever tasted.

“Chogan is a good cook.”

“Star calls me Blackbird.  That’s what you call me, isn’t it?  That’s what Chogan means.”

Adahya nodded.  Then laughed as contentment and a full stomach warmed him.  Star would become a good friend to her.  She was finally beginning to accept her fate, and he was glad he had not allowed her to leave after all.  He recalled how she said she had not wanted him to die.  She’d had every chance to escape and leave him in the forest for dead.  Instead, she had given up her freedom and risked her life to take him back to his people--people who had planned to roast her to death.  It was a very good start.

He suddenly noticed his lodge was different.  Everything was neat, like when Song lived here.  “What did you do, Chogan?”

“Better?”

“Better.”

He set his empty bowl down beside him.  “Come here.”

* * *

SHE knew she should refuse him, but it was too late.  She came to him, and he enveloped her in his arms, suddenly feeling better than he had in days.  He pressed her cheek against his own, taking in the soft scent of her hair.

Concerned for his wound, she tried to pull away, but his arm was around her shoulder, easily trapping her to him.

“I need to check your bandage.”  She reached for the ties, but he gently pushed her hands away.

“Do it later.”  His voice was like velvet.  “I need something else right now.”

He kissed her softly.  His kiss was patient yet seeking and hungry.  She opened her mouth, taking him inside.  His tongue was demanding, diving into her mouth deep and lingering.

She had been on her knees, and now she straddled him.  One of his hands supported her back and the other was working its way under the hem of her dress.

She knew she should stop him.  A part of her screamed to stop him.  But another part of her wanted to find out what he planned to do there under her dress.  Still kissing him, she parted her legs even more than they already were.  His hands slid to her inner thigh, massaging the sensitive skin in small circles.  He was kissing her with the force of a thousand stampeding horses now, and his hand continued to climb up her leg.

He opened her with his hand and touched her there in her inner most place.  Electric shocks shot from her stomach to that secret place, burning any inhibitions.  Her head reeled.  His finger moved in pulsing circles, slowly at first then faster, finding a place within her that she never knew existed, never knew could be manipulated in such a way.  Liquid fire ran through her.  Her breath came out in short gasps, and she was helpless to stop the tiny mewling sighs which began to escape her.

His mouth had left hers.   Pulling the bodice of her dress down to her waist, he began kissing her breasts.  Her nipples firmed against his touch, as he played his song of desire within her innermost recesses.  She tangled her hands in his hair. Her entire body tingled as he said something against her tender flesh.  She had no idea what he said, nor did she care.

She threw her head back, lost in a world she had never in her wildest dreams known existed.  He was kissing her neck now, his tongue tracing a moist trail up to her ear, all the while never stopping the delicious, forbidden, sinfully wonderfully wicked thing he was doing to her secret most being.  The pleasure was explosive and pure, and instinctively her hips arched to him.

He was gently pushing her off his lap and back onto the bearskin.  Slowly, he moved over her, his face framed by his dark hair.

She had to stop him.  If she did not he would make love to her right here.  He would think she belonged to him wholly and completely, and then she would never be able to escape him.

His hands moved down to the ties of his breechclout.

“Adahya, I--” she protested.

“Shh….”  He was lying partly atop her, one naked thigh covering her own.  He kissed her again, his need urgent and hungry.

“I can’t do this,” she spoke against his open mouth.

“You do not have to be afraid.”  He began kissing her again. 

Katherine squirmed beneath his weight.  She could not do this.  If she did she would regret it.  Pressing her hands on both his shoulders, she pushed against him, forcing him off her.  Adahya cried out in pain.  He rolled onto his back, as she rose to her knees.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I forgot about your wound.”

He threw a blanket over himself and said something which sounded like a curse.

She quickly adjusted her dress, fastened the bodice, suddenly ashamed of her wicked behavior.  “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

She moved to check his shoulder, but he pushed her away.  He lay on his side, his back toward her.  He was angry.  This man was a danger to her.  He made her do things, want things she had never dreamed of wanting.  And the sooner she escaped him the better.